THE PROMISE OF MAY. 



V7EAR by year, in the spring-time, all through the 

 wild March weather, in the fickle days of April, 

 and under the genial smiles of May, there descend upon 

 our coasts, unseen, unheard, the legions of an invading 

 army. It is a host that no Government Intelligence 

 Department takes notice of ; which no system of coast 

 defences can keep out. They come upon us in the 

 dark or at best by moonlight : 



' The birds who make sweet music for us all 

 In our dark hours, as David did for Saul.' 



Already the advanced guards have appeared, here 

 and there, in the southern districts. Already the 

 white flicker of the wheat-ear is conspicuous on the 

 bleak downs of Sussex, and the wide stretches of 

 Salisbury Plain. Already the light-hearted little chiff- 

 chaff utters his happy call-notes, in the reeling tops of 

 unsheltering trees. Already the tree-pipit, after soar- 

 ing high in air as if projected from a catapult, spreads 

 wide his wings and tail, and descends slowly, singing 

 as he sinks to his station on one of the weather-beaten 

 bushes of some still wintry hill-top. 



